


Starsoul

by roswyrm



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stars, Universe Alterations, give hamid freckles 2k19, i love the pathfinder bloodlines yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 15:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20311681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: When Apophis was small, they would look to the stars. When Apophis was barely more than a wyrmling, he would curl up with the others and try to find constellations in the discolourations of their scales. And then Rome fell, and then they were separated even further from the last sort of family they knew, and then he fell into a desert and didn’t know what to do with himself. So he looked up. They traced connect-the-dots in the night sky and searched for comfort in the twinkling specks. When Apophis was small, he looked to the stars.And the stars looked back.





	Starsoul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pitchblackkoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitchblackkoi/gifts).

> tim: bullshitting some science  
bryn: ...melon ball of starstuff...  
me, consumed with the need to talk about the pathfinder bloodlines: stardragon hamid...  
me, consumed with the need to make hamid pretty: hamid has constellation freckles..........
> 
> and then i wrote that, and made it gay. you're all welcome. Working Title: _melon ball of starstuff_

So.

The halfling is glowing.

Zolf didn’t think they _did_ that. He doesn’t know quite what he was expecting from the same halfling whose sleeves spontaneously manifested fake blood to shoot everywhere, but it definitely wasn’t this. It definitely wasn’t for him to scream and back away as white-hot bits of debris falls from the ceiling of Other London, it definitely wasn’t for freckles to appear across his face and glow white against his brown skin, it definitely wasn’t for his hands to look as though they’ve just been dipped in mercury. But that’s what’s happening, and Zolf figures that they can talk about it when they’re _not_ being menaced by Sasha’s old acquaintances.

* * *

So.

Hamid’s glowing again.

It barely even registers, now, it happens so often, (as do the tiny meteorites that crash to the ground around him when he panics) but Zolf notices it because it’s pitch black _apart from Hamid,_ who’s tucked under his arm and shivering. “Hey,” Zolf says gently, (too loud, too rough, too broken and harsh and brusque) shifting a bit closer, “are you doing okay?” He regrets it as soon as he says it because _of course,_ Hamid isn’t okay, he’s literally in shock, but Hamid just looks at him like he hasn’t asked the stupidest question available to him.

“I…” he quavers, voice broken around tears that haven’t been realised yet, “the sky isn’t there.”

Zolf raises an eyebrow at him. “The sky isn’t there,” he repeats, more a question than anything. Hamid makes a whining noise of agreement, leaning further into Zolf’s side as he glows a little bit brighter. Zolf silently accepts that he’s not getting anything more useful than that and agrees, “Fine. No sky. How do I help?”

Hamid shrinks into himself a bit, and Zolf rubs comfortingly (he’s not one for comfort, and Hamid’s not one for _him)_ at his shoulder. “You don’t _understand,”_ Hamid snaps, his voice still shaky.

As openly as Zolf can manage, “Then make me.” Hamid sniffs. Zolf strokes his thumb back and forth and back again on his shoulder. “Help me know what you’re dealing with, here.” And, in bits and pieces, Hamid does. In bits and pieces, Zolf hears about how Hamid has always loved the stars, and how the void above their heads is something like a comfort blanket, and how the cave’s darkness feels suffocating and wrong. In bits and pieces, the glowing freckles fade into black splotches against Hamid’s dark grey skin.

(Zolf resists the urge to tuck a bit of stray hair behind Hamid’s ear so he can better see the solar systems on his skin.)

* * *

So.

Hamid is glowing.

Not literally, this time, but there’s something in the way that he smiles (small and determined and weary) that makes the light from the shitty cafeteria ceiling saturate through his hair, and he _glows._ The freckles aren’t there, (Prestidigitated away when he got the use of his arm back) but Zolf can almost imagine finding them under his thumb and leaning in to press a kiss there and—

_Oh,_ Zolf thinks, looking abruptly back at his tray, _fuck._

* * *

It’s the middle of the night, and Zolf is airsick and miserable, and Hamid is on deck, staring at the sky. Zolf stumbles over to him and then sits, hard, on the deck beside him. Hamid looks down at him. “Are you okay?” The freckles are there and the eyeliner isn’t, which means that presumably, he’s taken all of his makeup off for the evening.

“Nauseous,” Zolf answers. Hamid makes a sympathetic noise and sits down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. Which. Is fine. “Why are you up?” is what comes out of his mouth next, and it’s almost a relief that he won’t have to sit in terrible silence with his throat closing up and a beautiful idiot trying to comfort him.

Hamid shrugs. “The stars are lovely from this high up,” he says, still staring at them. Zolf turns and finds Hamid glowing. The starlight does this thing to his cheekbones where it emphasises them, makes him look almost inhuman, but in the most beautiful way imaginable. “I know you’re not partial to being this far from the ground, but… aren’t they beautiful, this close?” The black specks across Hamid’s face aren’t glowing under their own power, but they still make Zolf want to trace constellations on them. Make him want to find Polaris on the bridge of Hamid’s nose, Sirius on the curve of his shoulder, Arcturus on the inside of his wrist. They’re beautiful, this close.

Hamid’s face melts into one of concern, and he turns to ask something, but he finds Zolf staring at him. The words don’t come out right, just a vague, stuttered nonsense, and oh, god, they’re almost nose to nose, and Zolf can feel doubt and fear and the panic of _he knows, he knows, he knows_ surging up in his throat, so he blurts, “I think they match.” Hamid cocks his head in confusion. “The, uh– the stars and your freckles. I think—” and he doesn’t stop himself this time because his brain is screaming at him too loudly to remember that it’s generally a bad idea to touch someone’s face out of nowhere— “this might be Cassiopeia.” The ship rocks, and it kicks the nausea back into high gear, and Zolf pulls away.

“You… do you think they’re pretty?” Hamid asks as Zolf stands up, desperately getting away from his touch, and there’s such hesitance in his voice that Zolf feels his heart crack a little.

When he looks down, Hamid has a hand to his face, echoing the placement of Zolf’s, index finger obscuring Cassiopeia. His eyes are wide and sparkling with something like caution and something like hope and he is _stunning,_ made ethereal by starlight and darkness, and there is panic building up below Zolf’s adam’s apple, and he has to swallow hard. _“You’re_ pretty,” Zolf tells him, forceful and not taking any arguments.

Hamid gets to his feet and puts an arm around Zolf’s waist like he’s trying to support him. “Yes, but– my brother once told me they made me look like an overripe banana.” He laughs at that, small and self-conscious, and Zolf sighs.

“I think they’re– I like them.” _I like you._

* * *

Wilde seems dull, now. The scar pulls taut across his face the way it does when he’s having a bad day, and Zolf puts a hand on his knee. “Need anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“Wilde.” Wilde doesn’t react. “Have you eaten?” Nothing. Zolf pats him twice before standing up, grabbing the cane for balance while he gets used to the prosthetics. “I’ll go make something, yeah?”

“Sure,” says Wilde, and it reminds Zolf of sitting in Dover and waiting to die, of curling up into a tangle of self-loathing and desperation in Paris, of collapsing into a hostel in Prague and not knowing whether to cry or scream or stare blankly at the ceiling.

“Maybe get you some water?” Zolf prods.

“I… yes, water would be nice. Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” 

The stars are the same. Still bright, still far away, still unobtainable. Zolf doesn’t look at them much anymore, (for the same reasons his chest tightens too far too fast when he sees gargoyles or interesting daggers) but there’s some kind of comfort there. He spends five minutes more than he needs to out on the lawn, staring up at the night sky.

* * *

Hamid is glowing again. He hadn’t when he and Azu were in the cell, but out in the rain, there’s a faint shimmer to his skin that Zolf can’t help but find comforting, even now. Even after. “I guess, right now, file me under you.”

Hamid’s eyes grow wide, and he sputters, _“What?”_

Zolf resists the urge to laugh, but he can’t help the grin on his face as he teasingly reminds, “Can cast magic for inexplicable reasons?” And it’s almost odd because he hasn’t given anyone that smile for over a year, but here it is again. 

“Oh, no, I know why.”

Zolf raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah,” says Hamid. He looks up at Zolf and his eyes are– _something._ Something else, something that Zolf hadn’t noticed before in the dark and while distracted by the job, but it’s clear, now. Hamid’s eyes are darker than they were in Prague, and there’s no light coming from the grey sky, but it still flashes through Hamid’s pupils like comets. “I’m descended from a being who was Startouched. Specifically, Apophis.”

Zolf’s jaw drops. “He’s sort of a space dragon,” Azu chimes in, sounding almost proud.

Hamid squawks some protest, but Zolf doesn’t hear it. Hamid routinely called down meteor showers, his freckles glowed like constellations, the night sky was a comfort for him, he would stargaze for hours if someone didn’t bring him in– it makes sense. It makes an uncomfortable amount of sense. Zolf can’t help but feel his cheeks heat up as he remembers asking if _Hamid accidentally worshipped a god._ “Yeah,” Zolf finally manages, “uh, what?”

* * *

It’s still raining, and Hamid is sitting beneath an umbrella and scowling up at the sky. Zolf doesn’t bother to stifle the fond smile he’s coming to realise is saved for Hamid (and Sasha, but she’s—) as he walks closer. “Hard to see stars through the clouds?” Hamid looks over as Zolf sits down beside him, scooting a bit closer to share the umbrella. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Hamid says with a shrug that Zolf can feel against his arm, “and yes, it is.” He tucks his feet a little further under the umbrella’s shield and his mouth purses. “Actually. Um, can you hold this?” Zolf takes the handle of the umbrella, confused but indulgent, and tries not to think too much about how cold Hamid’s hand is when their fingers brush. Hamid chews on his lip, brows furrowed in concentration, and mutters, “See, I got this spell recently, and I-I _think,_ if I can just—” his hand lights up. It’s so sudden that Zolf flinches back and shuts his eyes, but then Hamid makes a quietly pleased noise in the back of his throat, and Zolf dares to crack one eye open.

There’s a supernova in Hamid’s palm.

It dulls down to a miniature star as Zolf watches, fascinated, and then Hamid holds it out to him. Zolf’s tongue sits leaden in his mouth, dulled by fascination and confusion, but he manages to cup his hands just above Hamid’s, and the brush of his skin doesn’t even register. “Hamid,” he manages, but it comes out faint and far away, “I… this is… it’s gorgeous.” There aren’t words for how hypnotising the star is, swirling in white and purple and dark green, an aurora borealis hovering above his and Hamid’s palms, nearly blinding in its beauty.

Hamid’s hand is cold beneath his, and the star is practically arctic, but Zolf can’t bring himself to care. Hamid sounds breathless with awe, but Zolf hazily recognises the stirrings of panic in his voice as he says, “Oh. Oh, it really– really is, isn’t it?” Zolf nods with a grin, and he should look up at Hamid, but the star is too entrancing for him to do anything but stare. “Gorgeous,” Hamid breathes, and then the star winks out of existence as Hamid’s hand drops away from his. Zolf blinks hard. His head feels less fuzzy, now, and he realises that Hamid must have accidentally Charmed him with the new spell he’s only just getting the hang of.

“Damn,” Zolf laughs, rubbing at his eyes, “you might want to use that on some thugs, next time. I couldn’t even—” Hamid scrabbles back, and Zolf’s eyes snap up to him— “move. Hamid, are you? Alright?”

“Fine!” Hamid squeaks. “Yes, I just– um, it’s late, I should be– good night!” He turns and runs, the rain soaking him as soon as he sets foot outside the umbrella’s safe haven, and Zolf frowns after him. He supposes that Hamid can Prestidigitate himself dry again, but still. That was… _weird._

* * *

“Zolf!” Zolf yanks his glaive back out of the infected’s head and turns to him. “Remember the star?” Hamid shouts across the sounds of a pitched battle.

“Yeah?”

Hamid gives him a worried grin and warns, “It gets bigger!”

“Right,” Zolf calls, and Hamid’s hands move like they did before. It isn’t a star, this time, it’s an entire wall of swirling colours, and the infected on the same side of the wall as him stop and stare. Zolf manages to keep his eyes off of it now that he’s been warned, and it’s easy to take care of the few that resisted it along with him now that he’s not completely swarmed. By the time the Aurora Borealis comes back down, Zolf’s cleaning blue blood off of his glaive and keeping his eyes on the ground. “That was a good trick,” Zolf tells him with the fond smile that’s making itself known more and more often, and then he’s being wrapped up in a hug. “Oh! Uh, hi?” Hamid laughs, and he pulls back to grin up at Zolf. The constellations are back, and he’s every bit as beautiful as he was nearly two years ago.

Something in Zolf’s expression must change because Hamid clears his throat and takes an awkward step backwards. “Um, sorry, I just– that was very dangerous, and you’re okay, and my spell _worked,_ and– a-and, I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“You must be; this is the first time you’ve so much as looked at me for a week.” Hamid tenses, shoulders squaring out and spine drawing itself straighter, and Zolf barely manages not to swear at himself. “It’s fine,” he says (lies through his teeth) because they need to talk about it, need to get the team fixed up and running again, but they don’t need to do it in front of Azu and Cel.

“It’s fine,” Hamid repeats, eyes dropping to the ground as he backs up to join the rest of the party.

(He snaps his fingers, and the glow dissipates all at once. The freckles go with it.)

* * *

Zolf doesn’t even get the door closed before Hamid makes a noise like someone squeezing a dog toy. “Zolf,” he says, “look, I didn’t—”

“I’m sorry,” Zolf interrupts.

Hamid blinks. “You’re what.”

Zolf stays where he is, hands out in front of him like a peace offering. A show of trust and apology all wrapped up into one miserable little expression because he doesn’t have the words for what he needs Hamid to understand. “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry for it. If you can just tell me why you’re not… _comfortable_ around me, I won’t do it again.”

Hamid gawps at him for a moment before screwing his face up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… do you remember the star, Zolf?”

“Yeah?”

“What did it look like?” Zolf furrows his eyebrows and starts to respond, but Hamid cuts him off, “Because you looked at it like some stupid enchantment held all the secrets of the universe. You looked at this– this _melon ball_ of starstuff like it was the most incredible thing you’d ever seen in your life, and I—” he takes a shuddering breath in, and there is stardust in the tears beginning to trickle down his face when he meets Zolf’s eyes— “I could only look at you.”

Zolf’s heart starts picking up a staccato rhythm, and he manages, “I– Hamid, I don’t…” _understand; I don’t know what you’re saying._ Zolf is misunderstanding. He’s hearing what he wants to and not what Hamid really means because he isn’t this lucky, because he isn’t someone worth looking at.

Hamid smiles at him, soft and sad and small, and there are comets in his eyes. “I know you don’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– I’m sorry. I’ll just. Go back to giving you space now, I suppose.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” Hamid’s smile melts off of his face, but there’s hope in the new expression instead of horror, so Zolf forges on, “What if… wh-what if I—” he sighs, the ridiculousness of dancing around what he means settling in his shoulders and calming his spinning heart— “I don’t want space from you because I love you.” Hamid’s jaw drops, and his hands turn to solid mercury, sparkling in what little light there is, and gods, does Zolf hope that’s a good sign.

There’s a moment of silence, crystalised and tense, ringing with what could happen next and with what couldn’t, and then Hamid starts laughing. It’s sudden, and sharp, but so full of joy that Zolf can’t help but laugh back, and the two of them collapse into each other, giggling at themselves and at the sheer impossibility of their feelings being returned. “You love me,” Hamid repeats, head tucked into the crook of Zolf’s neck, “you love _me.”_

Zolf is aware of the fact that he’s grinning like an idiot. He decides he doesn’t care. “Of course I love _you,_ who else am I going to fall in love with? Wilde?” Hamid makes a sound of annoyance at that, clutching tighter to Zolf, and Zolf starts laughing all over again. “I’m _yours,”_ he promises, holding his jealous little star close, “I promise. I always have been.”

“Good,” mumbles Hamid, and when he draws back enough for Zolf to see his face, the tears have dried over glowing freckles, and Zolf can feel his heart melting. Hamid moves a hand from where it was clasped behind Zolf’s neck and runs his thumb over his cheekbone. “Can I kiss you?” he asks softly. There’s the constellation of Perseus beside Hamid’s lips, curving as he smiles hopefully.

Zolf is a sailor. He uses the stars to find his way home.

**Author's Note:**

> not pictured: zolf kissing every single one of hamids freckles while hamid laughs at him
> 
> im on tumblr @roswyrm and guess what. i love you.


End file.
